#Let the demon speak his poetry John

[sirtaliesin]

Batman/Dylan Dog - #2

[firelegsandfriendsreborn]

Some quick rules:

No minors. This is a nsfw blog obviously.

No godmodding this goes without saying

Along these NSFW themes light gore and violence will occur especially in the mha and GTA verse. With the smut.

I run on North American central time in the United States (-5 UTC during the summer until November, -6 UTC the rest of the year.)

Let me know what muse. It's basically the same muses I had on my old blog but adding a few.

I have ship biases but I am open to certain other ships if we discussed.

No hate/bigotry of any kind welcome here anon ask is turned off for a reason.

Send me an im or if you want my Skype and discord ask for plotting or RP offline as I have a life.

Please trim your posts for threads it's for ease for me reading them. I'll try to trim them myself as well.

I will use content warning for certain weapons, especially the GTA verse where firearms are common.

Speaking of muses here's my list:

Sanji from one piece: cook of the straw hats and a little bit perverted and lover of ladies. Does not fight with his hands, except that one time vs Wanze.

Markus my oc: protective lad but also really funny and silly and good lover. Usually GTA verse is main but open to others where he's a crime boss and beat up to the current dlc updates of GTAO. No fc currently. Hes pretty ruthless to enemies. Has a lot of of money and has a fleet of aircraft and vehicles. Very mature themes and firearms and weapon mentions. Mom was a prostitute. Dad was a John who was absent but had good male role models. He's quite blessed between his legs. MHA verse his powers are similar to Marco's from one piece. Most common verse is modern in which he's actually a solid dude. He's the most active and his default age is adult unless we've discussed prior to rp. He's usually around Los Santos (GTA verse's LA and GTA 5 & Online's setting) and Vice City (Miami, GTA VI's setting, yes, I watched the official trailer.) He's got brown hair or blond hair depending on the verse. (FC: m!saber from Fate)

Hawks from my hero academia: flirty himbo bird and lover of nuggies and good hero. Brought in to safety commission as a child to become a hero. Quirk is fierce wings. Main shop is fuyumi todoroki or Mirko. He trolls endeavor quite a bit.

Fumikage Tokoyami: I aged him up so he's a third year or a pro hero. He has the sentian bird demon shadow dark shadow who is incredibly strong the darker it is. Lover of poetry and a certain frog hero or a ghost girl in 1-B/3-B

Ejiro kirishima: a firm boi. A bit of a himbo but really smart in certain battle scenarios. He is a fiercely loyal friend to most of 1-A (by then 3-a) main ship is Mina Ashido.

[damerondala]

Bad Batch + Their Favorite Music

y’all i love the bad batch and you know what else i love? music. so let’s do some headcanons about what I think the bad batch’s favorite music and artists are:) 

EDIT: i decided to add spotify links to the specific artists/albums/songs i mentioned in this post so it’s easier for you guys to maybe experience some new things to listen to! please let me know if any of the links aren’t working! 

enjoy, my fellow feral, crazy, clone bitches <3

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

hunter:

i know we see our hot rambo cosplayer and immediately think he’d listen to metallica or some shit and while that is true, i also think hunter really enjoys some good 70s funk or even soul

like some parliament? yes pls

also hall & oats 

i will not take criticisms on this one he fucking loves those guys 

he’s definitely a springsteen man i mean just look at him 

also likes soundgarden! loves chris cornell’s voice it just makes him feel ALIVE but he can only take so much of it tbh 

absolutely ADORES linda ronstadt 

and aretha franklin 

he and wrecker definitely do not listen to aretha when they need their soul to be cleansed and maybe cry a little 

her voice just touches the inner reaches of their souls 

sometimes he and wrecker sit down in the cockpit with a good bottle of hooch and (you make me feel) like a natural woman is just bLASTING. everybody else knows to just let them get their emotions out and avoids the cockpit so they don’t have to listen to wrecker’s crying lol

crosshair:

cross really enjoys some toadies

kind of the guy who likes obscure bands but he doesn’t do it to be a hipster it’s just genuinely what he likes 

so in conclusion: crosshair is just cool lmao 

and royal blood!! he loves the fact that they’re a two piece it kind of reminds him of he and hunter aw softie who listens to hard rock 

can also get down with some helmet or filter too and L7 for sure!

LOVES black sabbath!!!!!!!! 

but also gets in moods where he only wants to listen to slower, singer/songwriter stuff

he and tech listen to some mac demarco from time to time. maybe some lord huron too 

tech:

TALKING HEADS TALKING HEADS TALKING HEADS 

not tech loving talking heads being the sole reason i made this entire post

like speaking in tongues is his favorite album of all time its so cute 

anyways 

L O V E S bowie!!!! he just exudes bowie energy to me 

i also see him enjoying some heavier stuff too? he honestly wouldn’t mind if hunter and crosshair put some soundgarden on the marauder’s speakers 

he likes gorillaz too!! sometimes when he and echo are ~scheming~ and coming up with battle plans they’ll throw on demon days and listen to it softly while they come up with stuff or tinker with a new holopad tech found 

also likes john mayer lol what a cutie 

i honestly cannot believe i forgot to mention this earlier but tech is a h u g e rush fan

he literally considers their lyrics as poetry as he fucking should

he and hunter are in agreement that they’re one of the greatest bands of all time aw big bro and little bro finding a band they both love 

wrecker:

my sweet man. the love of my life. wrecker ADORES dolly parton

he honestly likes country but he calls it *quality* country

so think dolly, johnny cash, willie nelson, john denver etc. etc.

also likes rap 

his favorites are megan thee stallion, ice cube, and biggie

is a dmx stan 

rip dmx im still sad about that one and so is wrecker

he is honestly all over the place

one time his playlist was on shuffle and get this it literally went from dolly to dmx to john denver to doja cat and ending with aretha franklin

everybody is honestly confused but it just works when you think about how wrecker’s personality is 

he is so sweet he will listen to anything at least once 

even if he doesn’t like his vod’s music he will endure without much protest because he knows it makes them happy 

echo:

echo loves some pearl jam!!!! he likes how their earlier stuff has some that grungy sound but also how their newer stuff can get kind of experimental? 

he listened to black on repeat the first time he had his heartbroken

he thinks it kind of reflects his life journey its adorable i wanna hug him 

i could also see him liking gorillaz!! kind of that same experimental stuff 

he and tech definitely bond over that one 

mitski mitski mitski!!!!! he loves her sm 

y’all gotta remember he was best friends with fives 

so, naturally, he loves abba 

he and hunter like to have listening sessions where they share their music for sure:)))) its one of the first ways he feels really included into clone force 99 

bonus:

they all love britney spears but none of them utter a word about it so none of them know that they all love her

its tragic tbh 

they would KILL IT with an entire dance routine to toxic if they only admitted how much they love the queen  

[supernaturalnovelsandmore]

Supernatural Novel: Bone Key

Welcome to my not-quite review of the third Supernatural novel, Bone Key.

Author: Keith R.A. DeCandido

Timeline: Set after Episode 3.07 A Very Supernatural Christmas

Location: Key West, Florida

Synopsis: Sam and Dean head to Key West, Florida to investigate reports of supercharged ghosts. What they encounter is far deadlier and far older than they ever anticipated.

Warning: Spoilers abound!

I found this book very enjoyable. It was certainly a much faster read than the previous two. With the story being further along in the series, there are a lot of callbacks to prior episodes, mostly concerning Dean's demon deal.

LGBTQ+ representation: Sam and Dean stay at a B&B with a lesbian couple and another gay couple is highlighted. Normally, I wouldn't mention this, but the book was written in 2008, which may have been early for representation in the media (I'll admit I haven't paid close attention to the evolution of such), and I think is still relevant today. Of course, Dean is quite straight in the novel, going after multiple women, so it fits with canon.

Included are a few references to sexual situations, e.g., a woman being leered at by her step-brothers, to a ghost who was gang-raped. It's not graphic by any means, but it's interesting to see how a novel can share more than a tv series can (or at least get past the censors).

Bobby appears in the book as Sam and Dean share the New Year with him drinking champagne out of whiskey glasses. This whole scene leads into a page's worth of trolling Ryan Seacrest. LOL!!!

Dean: "Who's the genius who thought replacing Dick Clark with Ryan Seacrest was a good idea?"

Sam: "Well, he was on American Idol."

Dean: "Dude, you are not equating being on that lame-ass Star Search wannabe show with American Bandstand, are you?"

Bone Key has fewer references to the boy's past than the previous two books, but here is a fun bit: "I don't need to make myself tall, Dean, I am tall," Sam said in that tone he always used when he gloatingly reminded Dean that, for all that Sam was the "little" brother, he had a good three inches on Dean. Sammy'd been using that tone since hitting his growth spurt at age fourteen and shooting past Dean on the height chart. Back then, of course, Sam provided those reminders approximately once every five minutes. "Hey," teenaged Sam would say, "can I borrow your jacket? Oh, wait - it's too small for me!""

In addition to the above, the book mentions John trying to put Dean in martial arts classes and it eventually failing because they moved around too much, and Dean's more of a brawler.

There's additional insight into Dean's intelligence that I find fits very well with canon after both acknowledging they know what laissez-faire means: 'When they were kids, Sam was always the book-smart one who liked studying, while Dean was more of the type to beat up the nerds, and who hated admitting to knowing anything. Smart made you an outcast, and given their hard-traveling ways, Dean had enough issues in school with that. So he adopted the jock persona of not caring about learning anything. That tendency still bled into his personality, to Sam's annoyance, to the point where Dean would profess ignorance on subjects Sam knew damn well he was knowledgeable about. Anything to not be the nerdy kid."

First, I don't believe for one second that Dean beat up nerds. Bullies, yes. Second, I can totally see the not wanting to seem smart as part of Dean's personality. He does this multiple times in the tv series. Sometimes Sam calls him on it, other times he lets him get away with it.

At one point, a demon requests that the boys work with them so they can both get rid of the 'big bad'. They are reluctant, as they should be, but then she brings up Ruby. Most of that fits with canon, but there was this part that confused me because I don't remember anything like this in the TV series: 'Ruby had also dropped some hints about Sam and Dean's mother that were leading Sam down some disturbing roads - sufficiently disturbing that he hadn't shared Ruby's revelations (and his own research) on the subject with Dean.'

If anyone remembers what that might be about, let me know!

As the end nears, there is a lot of Dean worrying about Sam, and a final showdown that basically uses the love he has for Sam as an anchor and uses that power to destroy the big bad.

Some final notes:

Funny scene: Dean has to pick up Bobby at the airport (yes, Bobby took a plane). His fear of flying comes back in full force, so much so that he seriously considers smoking. In fact, if he's going to Hell anyway, what's the harm? Luckily, budgetary reasons win out. Smoking is expensive.

Brotherly moment/Hurt Dean: I'll let this section speak for itself: 'Dean had suffered plenty of pain in his life. He'd been beaten up, beat down, shot at, stabbed, cut, electrocuted, punched, kicked, bit, thrown across more rooms than he could count, and run over by a Mack truck. If you combined all that pain, It was only a fraction of what Dean felt now.... No matter how bad it got, though, he refused to let the protection for Sam and the others falter. It didn't matter if he died in the effort - he was dead anyhow - but that sonofabitch wasn't taking Sam with him.'

Extra Bonus: For readers of my other blog: '[People] came in from the parking-lot entrance, as Megan had, past that smelly guy who was selling his poetry.'

[thehopefulsnowflake]

And again here are more theories and opinions about the magnus archives from my brother

The corruption is one of the "four horsemen"

War and conquest are the military ghosts, and the desolation

Famine and pestilence is the buggy bois

Death is the end, duh

The corruption is colonisation basically

Elias is against having a cat, because they are too powerful, he was very serious about this

Centipedes have a masochistic foot fetish, millipedes have a normal one, don't ask

The woman in Dead Woman Walking is just a Zombie

Is the Woman a victim of the Book of Death from MAG 70

Georgie is a ghosty hunty person

Georgie and Melanie don't seem to be afraid of anything

The Italian mountain troops would have known they were being fucked with

More undead

Reminded him sort of the Meat Men

Also reminded him of the buried on the London underground

The mysterious firing squad intrigued him, did all the men that went up the mountain come back to kill him?

Basira is Drax from gotg

She'll randomly appear and no one will know she's there until she speaks

The chuckle brothers origin story, he means Breekon and Hope

Didn't think the circus had anything to do with the stranger

Breekon and Hope are taxidermy

So they're with the stranger

The Stranger is just everything that doesn't fall under something else

The circus was it's own thing

The cult of the lightless flame is it's own thing

The people's Church of the devine host is it's own thing

The circus is just full of people who you don't know, if you do know them that's sad... He was kinda rambling at this point

Is Sarah Baldwin capable of being bored

Why was she working with Melanie?

Do you just take a liking to ghost people

Did you take them over before of after they were eaten.

The Buried is called The London underground

Is it the Fairchild's? Thinks they're about isolation

Thinks it might be a book

The pit could be an Antlion

Thought that the young woman who was eaten by the pit turned into Gertrude

The young man could be, Gerry, Martin, Salesa, young Jon, Elias.

Thinks The stranger is vanilla in terms of gods and monsters.

The stranger is the least interesting.

Thinks all the Stranger wants to do is just summon a god

For some reason he thinks the Dark should be doing more to stop them, because Rayner wouldn't want that to happen

Martin will rap battle the archive to victory, via poetry from Leitners books

The stranger could just be Lego

He's horny for Rayner, his words not mine

Mr. Sandman brought him a dream

Thinks that the Dark at least can get to their gods dimension but choose not to.

If you make everywhere dark does their god appear?

He asked what would happen if two factions tried to summon their god at the same time what would happen

Thinks that all the Avatars /Entities do the same thing.

Breekon and hope have never killed anyone

Maxwell Rayner is a time travelling shadow demon

Mr sandman is like an angry sandy from Rotg

He made this episode unnecessarily kinky

They're just summoning gods

The stranger is remarkably being left alone

Thinks there is no fighting between factions

If anything they're aided

Is the Fairchild's entity already here

Are they working with the other factions

Says he knows whats going to happen because he "knows how these things go"

The Beholding is already on this side and if another God is summoned then it will be booted

Elias killed Gertrude because she was trying to defeat the Beholding and if it was defeated he would turn into the same thing as below the Library in Alexandria

There were three versions of the unknowing that he thought of

Destroying the concept of identity, the unknowing destroys the concept of personality, individuality, and identity. Turning them into Stranger worshipping entities

The angler fish was the thing in the basement at the Taxidermy shop

Stranger just means it couldn't get any stranger

Or it's deliberate parodies of humans

Breekon and Hope were normal people

Salesa, the chuckle brothers, the meat man, the skin walkers, the taxidermist, the manquien, Not-Sasha, the architects, the circus and to some extent the witches are part of the stranger

Magnus is a stranger that took over Elias

He also thinks Elias is just Magnus who found out how to stick around for a while

But Elias isn't the archive god like he first thought

The twisted detergent is Michael's new entity

Michael is like Loki if he didn't have a brother

The stranger is the big bad

Jon is an idiot, he's a bit slow

His second theory for the unknowing is that It's just going to destroy all knowledge revolving the Elder gods, hence the unknowing, the one he thought the least likely

And third, It somehow increases their powers so that the few people that would recognise them, no longer do. Levelling up in short. Thinks it would work for every entity

Doesn't think The Unknowing would be that big of a shift

The circus and the stranger were different because the Circus dealt with the "Freak show"

Thinks Rayner isn't dead

Dust devils

Dirt zombies

Has only made the connection between the Underground, the pit and the dust storm

Was the kid in the car Michael

Was Michael always the Spiral but just really liked working with Gertrude

Michael is the Spiral, he doesn't worship anything

Elias took Gertrude from him, now he's after revenge

Jon should go chill with everyone at the Archive

Jon should have a sword

While you were busy not having a paranoid breakdown I studied the blade

Michael has a crush on Gertrude

He has a granny kink, he is obsessed with making it all kink related

Michael originally gave his powers away to be with Gertrude

Michael took on this form because he could blend in or brag

He's a monster with a thing for Gertrude

Michael wasn't the same Michael as in the tape

Just trying to trick everyone

Lynne Hammond was lying, goes in line with the church of the lightless flame but it didn't happen

Maybe she heard something similar but it didn't actually happen to her, she was just trying to get some money

He actually feels bad for Tim

Tim should run

John Smith was half telling the truth.

People are in the tunnel's but it's not a government conspiracy

Tim doesn't deserve this

You can tell Basira is used to dealing with idiots

Liked that it cut out when Robin Lennox said let me start again, it's like the archive was trying to make it stop

Thinks the archive doesn't care what is being read to it, someone should read it the Lord of the Ringd

The archive is recording the tape recorders not Elias

Get the dog out

Michael was the crying man, he wanted the dog out

He doesn't want to hurt the dog

"Gertrude why did you leave me? I'll get you one day Elias" based on his Michael granny kink theory

Brian Finlinson was the most coherent in terms of links

Thinks that the spiders were actually there, hiding whenever anyone came around

Lynne is lying, John Smith is half telling the truth, Robin Lennox saw Michael having a breakdown, Brian Finlinson was telling the truth

He didn't remember Peter Lukas ever being mentioned before

Already shipping Peter and Elias

Michael is very sensitive

The Fairchild's and the Lukas' are working together

They don't seem to have an interest in the conflict going on between everyone else

The Fairchild's were in aerospace and Lukas was the ships

Still cthulhu

Even space had a cthulhu vibe

The depth of the ocean or the isolation of space

The Lukas and the archive are working together

There are some of these guys that don't want the entities on this side

Likes the power, doesn't want the full on entities here

The Lukas and the Fairchild's are the cthulhus

They're somewhat working with the archive/the beholding

Is Elias actually a Lukas? Decided yes because he and Peter are married

How much do the Lukas have to do with the Beholding

What sort of arrangement do they have?

Nikola was supposed to be part of the circus but there is a difference between the facimalies and the circus

Thinks that the archive burning down would have no downsides for the Beholding.

They'll summon a god and gazing upon it will kill everyone, everyone dies.

As he was now halfway through the series he explained who he thought was in each of these factions

The beholding, Elias, Martin, Tim, basira, daisy, sims, melanie, sasha, Rosie, Gertrude, leitner. Sasha is caught in a time loop...

The stranger, everyone, has no limits, The maniquein, the taxidermy, the circus, skin walkers, grifters bone, breekon and Hope,  angler fish

The desolation, the cult of the lightless flame, Jims pims aka Jude Perry, Agnes,

People's Church of the divine host, Rayner, Rayner have something to do with the German crypt, Rayner Is also not dead

The diggy boys, the buried, Maggie and Gordon from the dump, dig dude from Dig, whatever was going on with the pit, and the dust storm.

Meat, no recurring. The haans that's it.

Buggy boys, spiders, Jane prentiss

Michael, the twisting deceit, the twisting deceit just is Michael, didn't exist before him

The leitners, the witches are using the books, Gérard, Mike crew,

Cthulhu collective, the lukas', the Fairchild's. Both are just isolation, the Fairchild's are all about being alone, the only time the Lukas have turned up are being alone either in space or at sea

The witches, Mary Keay, puzzle witch, have big crossover with the Leitners, they just have some of leitners books

Trevor is his own entity, is he part of the desease and corruption group

The architects, smirke, smirkes apprentice.

Jared is his own thing. Just found a self help book

It's a giant celestial orgy!

Also Came up with a random spinoff comedy again

Slowly the archive collects strange people

Michael, who is mourning Gertrude... Loudly

They found a worm in the tunnel left over from Prentiss

The worm loves gooseberries

That's Elias, we're not sure what he is

Thats the Admiral, it is a cat.... It runs the place

Rayner is sat in the corner giggling

Leitner started a microbrewery in the basement

Serves bud leitner, you can't get leitner than this

[motherofnevernever]

‘ love is double edged sword ’ || [closed] wendy & smee closed.

It had been the dead of night when they came. Wendy, and her lost boys stolen away. It was supposed to be an adventure, a game. The war between James and Peter was just that wasn’t it? A game? She struggled and fought harshly until an elderly looking man took her aside.

“Pardon miss......” he spoke, “Look.... if you keep fightin; it’ll only make it worse. Not for you but for them....” gesturing to the lost boys being dragged away. “If you don’t show them to remain calm. Those pirates will hurt them Miss Darling.” 

Wendy froze and nodded in some kind of understanding. Peter couldn’t lead them, she had to be the mother and show them. 

“You’ll have your moment Miss, I promise.” 

It was a long journey from the trees and forests to the dock, and the row boats. Sitting up she made not eye contact with the pirates, looking ahead, Always a head to the Roger getting closer and closer. A white bird landing on the boat near to her then flying off as if telling her she would be fine. It was a strange to suddenly be on the bow of the Jolly Roger. The wind blew catching her hair and in her night gown she stood surrounded by Pirates, and the looming James Hook striding towards her. Blue eyes piercing through her and it reminded her of the first time she had seen him on the rembrant. She was not as afraid in this moment as she had thought. Wendy did not cower, a child standing before Captain James Hook, and was afraid but did not show an ounce of it.

“ Seperate the boys from the mother, and prepare for battle. The demon shall be here soon.” 

The older gentleman took Wendy to grand quarters, an oak desk near the window, books and maps strewn about. She ran her delicate fingers across old poetry. It seemed odd to the child that there would be poetry in a place like this. 

As the older pirate began to leave she somehow find her voice. 

“Why...” the soft voice of Wendy Darling called out as the door almost closed. She could hear the older man sigh before entering and shutting the door. Looking out as if to make sure no one was spying. “Why are you doing this to us?” 

Gesturing for Wendy to sit she does so. The pretense of strength had fallen and the pirate she would later learn was one Mister Smee the Captain’s right hand. It wouldn’t be for many years that this moment would even make sense to the Darling Child wanting nothing but to save the ones she called her children. 

“Imagine a man.” he stopped as if something was preventing him from continuing but the earnest in her eyes, and fear melted him. Images of another young girl lost and seeking guidance.... James’ Birdie. Even Smee saw her as a surrogate daughter or sorts.

“Imagine a man who lost everything. I mean everything. Love, hope, all the light in their life.”

“I don’t understand.” Wendy was still a child they idea of losing everything her heart held dear was foreign to her. Innocence..... it was a double edged sword. Blind to all the world’s troubles and pain but also not knowing what it truly is to live and take risks.  

“You will.... one day but i hope not for a very long time. It changes you and in that change you have a choice Wendy. Either let it consume you and your heart turning to darkness and revenge or you forgive and chose to let go. You will never know what choice you will make until that moment comes and you look that moment dead in the eyes. Depending on the choice you make? You’re killing some part of yourself.”

Wendy sat in silence. She didn’t understand, nothing this man told her seemed to make sense. What about a man? This story didn’t have a happy ending, or even a middle or an end. Standing the older man shook his head. 

“I am sorry miss.” 

“I’ve told and read many stories..... I never would blame someone for following the orders of their King.......”

“James is no King, but he is my Captain.”

“Then... I forgive you.... for whatever has happened and whatever comes next.” For all she didn’t understand Smee recognized the kind heart she had. Even her words seemed to wash over him and give him some kind of peace. Wendy made him think so much on Birdie and those words? Those soft words of forgiveness felt as though they came from her too. Guilt was something he was familiar with and oh, how he pitied her and those children stowed in the brigg below. But to Smee this was war. Wendy was just a casualty of it. But what Peter had taken from James was unfathomable. Peter deserved to fall, and Wendy Smee knew was the key. 

“If there was a way to save your children would you?” 

“I will never be a pirate.” 

“Not what I meant........ would you trade your life for theirs?” 

Wendy was taken aback by Smee’s words. It was a strange thought, either way Wendy figured she was a dead girl walking. Would she sacrifice everything for them? She wasn’t sure she could speak for the lost boys, but for Michael and John?

“Yes.” It was in that moment that Wendy grew up. Where Wendy Darling the child died, and Wendy Darling the woman was born. In a private conversation in James Hook’s quarters with a pirate she never knew. Wendy discovered what it was to love something unconditionally. 

“I’ll try my best to get them spared.” And with that moment Smee left the Darling woman on her own. To come to peace with what was about to happen. She found herself drawn to the small book of poetry she had found. And read a few passages until the sound of footsteps stirred her. Placing it quickly on the desk before they opened the door Wendy stood. The book in the wrong place, Wendy facing destiny. Wendy Darling was to walk the plank. 

[lushthemagicdragon]

I know these are from the smut list but uhhh Aziraphale/Crowley? They don't *have* to be smut, I just liked the look of the prompts: “If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” / “That’s probably the fastest i’ve ever done that.” / “Stop distracting me.”

Well. You asked for it ;)edit: read it on AO3.

—

“My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh that lies between my breasts. My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of Engedi.” 

Soft, plush lips press against the curling snake in front of Crowley’s ear. Fallible words committed to infallible memory, but no, perhaps the reverse. Their source should burn the demon’s skin but instead they only prick and tingle, raising goosebumps. 

“Behold, you are beautiful, my love;  behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.” (1) 

“Angel,” The lover’s breath catches in his throat like the words have hooks, “Bible verses aren’t exactly what I was going for here. Loving the King James though, nice touch, love a crass bible.” 

“Oh hush.” A gentle slap hits the snake’s hip where it juts, all bone and muscle, not an ounce of fat on him. He’s all sharp angles like this, not the strong curves of his more powerful form. Angelic kisses pause only briefly as they trail down jaw to neck, “No I suppose it’s not, though I can’t imagine what you could have meant.” 

“Bollocks, you know exactly what I meant. Don’t play coy with me.” 

“Putting my tongue to good use can mean a wide variety of things Crowley, and I can’t think of any better use than poetry.” Another kiss to Crowley’s neck, another to his shoulder, and Crowley’s body sighs beneath him. 

“Poetry doesn’t really qualify as being filthy though, does it?” 

“I’m an angel, dear. I don’t do filthy.”

“Yes you do.” 

Aziraphale merely tuts against Crowley’s collarbone, his trail continuing in the dip between his lover’s collar bones, “O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I may be with you,” Skin prickles and lifts, the soft hairs on his chest stand on end, the trail continues.  “As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,” What a useless thing a nipple is to a demon, but it hardens under warm, wet touch, standing to a peak as its owner’s fingers tangle in blond curls. 

“Aziraphale…” 

“Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.”(2) That extraneous heart beats harder in Crowley’s chest and the sharp edges of his knees jump out to press against the inside of his angel’s thigh. Sock feet trail against the calf like a cat in heat.

“Stop distracting me, please.”

“Distracting you?”

“Yes, I’m trying to concentrate.”

Crowley laughs, Aziraphale continues, downward, downward, a vague saunter of kisses against each rib and between them still. “But in my arms till break of day, let the living creature lie. Mortal, guilty, but to me the entirely beautiful.” The body below shivers and shakes, huffs out a laugh and a quip about mortality, ”Soul and body have no bounds: To lovers as they lie upon her tolerant enchanted slope,” The slope of Crowley’s stomach shivers and shakes. The demon tugs on his hair, pushing down to no avail. The saunter is too steadfast in its vaguery. “In their ordinary swoon, grave the vision Venus sends,”

“Venus, really?” 

“Crowley please.”

“Apologies, go on.” 

“Thank you,” The gentle caress of thumbs on hip bones doesn’t tickle; it can’t for them, for beings beyond their physical bodies, though they can try. “Of supernatural sympathy, universal love and hope,” A bruise would blossom in the valley of the snake’s hips if the snake could bruise like a snake can have hips, “While an abstract insight wakes among the glaciers and the rocks the hermit’s carnal ecstasy.” (3)

“Carnal ecstasy, that’s definitely one of ours,” Crowley manages to gasp out despite the crane of his neck and the curl of his toes. 

“If you interrupt me one more time, Crowley, so help me–” 

“Sorry–Sorry, please don’t stop.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it dear.” Angelic sincerity can cause the toughest of knots to uncoil from the holiness of its timbre. In Crowley’s case it causes his stomach to tighten, a whimper of a groan eking out from the muscles in his throat. Sincerity and a smile makes him wet between the legs. That smile, that sincerity, continues going down. 

“So fondly I’ll breathe, and so softly I’ll sigh, thou wilt think that some amorous zephyr is nigh,” Tongues are for talking, for eating, for helping the medicine go down. What is poetry if not speaking the tongues of humanity? “Ah! no–as I breathe it, I press thy fair knee.” Soft angel’s lips press music into the nub Crowley has willed there between his legs, and his breath catches again, it whines, it squirms in his voicebox, “And then, thou wilt know that the sigh comes from me.” (4)

Love is warm, it’s wet, it shivers through the bones from toes to scalp and pricks each hair along the way. Love is poetry, linguistics in the veins that pump and rush harder in the crux of it. Aziraphale watches from his perch, the old bird, leaning comfortably against his lover’s thigh as the shakes subside and Crowley laughs, warm, loved. 

”That’s probably the fastest I’ve ever done that”

“I could keep going, if you like. I’ve a whole library you know.“

“Please.” 

—

1. Song of Solomon, The ol’ Bible.

2. O You Whom I Often And Silently Come, Walt Whitman

3. Lullaby, W.H. Auden

4 - To Emma, John Keats

[arrowsbane]

and death was his gift (one he can’t give back)

so, @richard-harmon-gifs​ you remember those two au’s we were talking about: the demon one, and the superpowers... i figured out a way to combine them. it’s going to take time, but here, have an early not-birthday present from me. or a late one? idek.

“Pain, hate, envy. Those are the ABCs of me. You get rid of them and there's nothing left…” He’s not insane; he’s just got the dead and long buried whispering in his ears from the moment he touches down on earth, that’s all. Once upon a time, a boy went into the woods… and he never came back. Superpowers!AU with a twist.

There’s a whisper, a rumour, a story, a legend.

“There’s a boy,” they say, “a boy that the woods swallowed whole; and a demon that haunts the trees, fashioned from his broken soul and tempered by nature.”

“A boy who is a demon, who runs with wolves and drops from trees without a sound. A demon that never misses, that can outrun horses and men, a demon that appears from nothing and disappears into the same. A demon that never speaks a word, except to the dead who carry his secrets.”

“Sometimes,” they say, “if you listen carefully, when the wind is in the trees and the moon high in the sky, in the distance a voice will join the pack in their wolfsong.”

There’s as many stories as there are clans, and then some. They differ wildly, but they all have one thing in common:

“Once upon a time, a boy went into the woods… and he never came back.”

*

There’s an itch in the back of his mind. It’s been there since the moment the doors opened and the fresh summer breeze rushed over his skin, sparking and prickling at his skin, causing the hairs on his arms to stand on end.

It was easier, he thinks, to ignore the voices when he lived his life surrounded by steel corridors and a void of silence, that empty space between stars, sun and moon. It was easier then. Here, on earth, they bubble like a fast-flowing brook, a constant jumble of voices.

The ghosts cross the forest in bursts, here is a mother and her child, there is a soldier still chasing imaginary enemies. They seem to fade in different degrees of intensity, time takes most of them, but some are particularly stubborn.

John sets his gaze forward, focusing on the living, on the trees, on sharpening the metal fragment he pried loose into a serviceable weapon. He learnt his first lesson a long time ago: Don’t interact with the dead – so long as they don’t know he can see them; he will have peace. He paid for that lesson with blood and pain, paid for it with a false diagnosis and his father’s life.

Not again. Never again.

John Murphy’s gift is death, and it’s a gift he’s never been able to return.

*

Bellamy Blake is wild, is unpredictable… if John stays too close, it won’t end well. A distant memory stirs, of his father warning him not to play with fire; “Fire doesn’t apologise John, it takes and takes and takes. If you’re not careful, it’ll burn you up too;”

The thing is, it’s cold down here on cloudless nights, and fire is one of the few ways to stay warm.

Bellamy doesn’t seem to feel the cold like John does - like anyone does, in all honesty - he frequently wanders around without a shirt, barefoot in the frosty dirt, unbothered by the chilly wind. He isn’t particularly choosy of his bed partners either, enjoys giving and taking pleasure in equal measure so John spends many nights curled up in his tent, pressed against skin that burns impossibly hot, and tries to ignore the whispering voices outside.

But fire burns. It burns and gives nothing back, but ash and ruin; and so does Bellamy Blake.

*

When Clarke comes screaming out of a tent, his missing knife in hand and hatred in her eyes, John is taken aback. He’s never been particularly friendly with anybody here, but he’s never gone out of his way to hurt her personally. It’s true, he lost control for a short while, lost his grasp on reality when Jasper’s screams began to blend with the wailing of the dead – he doesn’t deny he wanted Jasper dead, thinks anybody in his situation would have done the same thing.

The accusation of murder though… that’s a new one.

Wells Jaha was many things, but he was never John’s victim. Not once. The boy had been too proud, and John hadn’t been foolish enough to challenge him again, not after the knife fight cut short.

Behind Clarke’s right shoulder, a washed-out spectre lurks. John focuses his gaze on Clarke’s face, but it’s hard to stop his eyes from flickering over the image of a dead boy, missing fingers and a slit in his neck that still leaks blood turned black, the colours of his mortal form leeched away in death.

The next thing he knows, his eyes are full of dirt, his mouth spitting out blood as a mob converges and strings him up with a rope. There’s a rage here in this crowd of abandoned children; a dangerous, almost manic need for bloodshed that’s far too like a forest fire ready to ignite… and Bellamy, who is fire made flesh, kicks out the bucket from beneath his feet and lets him burn.

You see, in the stories, hanging to death by a rope around your neck sounds quick.

They don’t tell you about what it feels like to gasp for air, your fingers scrabbling uselessly at the rope. They don’t tell you about the pain burning in your chest, in your eyes, in your ears. Don’t tell you about the jerking bounce of the rope rattling your spine or what it’s like to have your vision blurred with yellow and black spots.

They don’t tell you that in the last few minutes of your life, you’ll be wishing that your neck had just snapped like it was supposed to, and that you’d died before knowing there wasn’t a bucket under your feet anymore.

That’s the thing about real life. It’s nothing like the stories.

*

Later, in the dark, when a broken child has fallen to her death, John wants to rage.

‘Look at what you’ve done,’ he wants to scream, ‘what we have done,’ but before he can open his bruised and bleeding lips, Bellamy has a weapon raised over his head and Clarke’s razor tongue is condemning him and him alone. 

Never mind that Bellamy put the weapon in Charlotte’s hand, never mind that Clarke inadvertently taught her how to kill with one blow, never mind that the Chancellor himself broke that little girls’ spirit… no, the blame is on John, and he can never go home again.

Stumbling about in the dark, John remembers meeting the echo of a slender woman aboard the Ark once, her hair gone silver with age, and the years lined into her face. She used to putter about the viewing decks, mumbling poetry and half remembered paragraphs of stories lost in the fallout.

‘Home is where our feet may leave,’ she had mumbled once, staring down at the empty planet, ‘but not our hearts.’

The words of a long-dead man in a world that no longer exists…

Home…

John Murphy doesn’t have a home, not anymore.

*

Even in death, Charlotte causes trouble for him.

The tiny shade of a girl follows him through the darkened forest, her constant tears and apologies go unanswered – John keeps to the first rule, always – but they don’t aid in his concentration.

Roots stick up from the ground, tripping him up, snaring his clothing, the laces of his boots. Bushes with razor thorns sink into his skin, and rip holes into his already worn trousers, allowing the cold cold air to burn at him… there’s no Bellamy here to warm him, never again.

John curses as he looses his balance, scrabbling at a bank for grip before sliding down into a bitterly cold ditch full of water. He’s too busy focusing on hauling himself back out, that he doesn’t see the shadow passing nearer under the moonlight, doesn’t see the blow coming until it’s too late.

There’s a short burst of pain in the back of his head, and then darkness takes him.

[shade-without-color]

Fruits Basket Discord Contest: A quiet soliloquy (Victorian AU)

Note: So this is my entry for the Fruits Basket contest which I am working on the theme of Blossom. So I am interpreting it on both ways, one on the physical garden and another, on how Tohru tried to get Kyo somehow (I dunno why I just thought of John Keats in Bright Star LOL), it was a little idea which is out of my comfort zone as I have to research on the Crimean War and the effects. I thank @stormcrowthegrey for the additional idea!

I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades For ever and forever when I move. (Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson)

Tohru slowly skipped the stairs as she looked over the faces of the Sohmas, there is that strangeness in their faces, and at most, they hold themselves to a certain hunger. She particularly looked at that portrait of one of the family members which he took a masque as an ancient god. She somehow makes fantasies what he would be, in that guise of time.

However, the smell of fried mutton nearly tempted her, which she glanced at the sidelines on Kyo gazing to the celling of the triumphs of Gods and Goddesses in unison. He nearly gave a satirical chuckle. She shivered slightly at his ramrod gaze. She swallowed quietly at that thought. “Ohhh good morning.”

He did not reply much. In contrary, she saw Yuki descending down the stairs, and as usual, he seems composed in his actions. “Good morning Miss Honda...” his hands somehow curled to the maps of the countries. “Should we move on with breakfast....” it seems like a deep contrast from Kyo’s sullenness.

“Hmmm...”

Meanwhile, Shigure came down the stairs lazily, his face seems flushed as his hand gripped to the papers of the work “Oh good morning miss Honda.”

“Morning...”

Soon she saw a ginger-haired girl, wearing a simple eggplant dress and patent leather shoes “Good morning Lady Kisa.” She did not reply as she was rendered silent, her eyes gazing over a small modelli of Rinaldo walking over the enchanted gardens of an enchanted sorceress.

Shigure somehow squeezed Kyo’s shoulder. “Come, do not sulk, we should have breakfast together...” Kyo mumbled quietly “There is no need...” as his hands reached out for the nearest book. “I bet Yuki will say that I am a failure for the family, even more, when I laid there..." He only gave the company goodbye.  "Do not let this affect you, Miss Honda. Kyo is always upset…I just cannot get through his head since he charged in front of the house…"Shigure nearly glanced at Kyo storming out of the corridors “So be it, Yuki, I wonder what did they prepare this I hope it is devilled kidneys…”

During the breakfast brought by the servants, Tohru grew uneasy than before, she heard about the plight of the soldiers of that war, and the horrendous conditions that they lived, but she has never seen someone who has been shaken by the war by Kyo. For that moment he seems to be like a caged tiger, waiting to lash at anyone. She somehow traced her fork against the French omelette, thinking what is that side which he is afraid of.

“Tohru…your tea seems cold…”

Tohru blinked her eyes slightly, as she gazed at a young maid trying to fill up the pots with hot water to keep the ham warm.

“Sorry…I have something in mind…”

“Yes…I just need some fresh air Shigure…” Tohru mumbled slightly, as she gazed at Shigure smiling quietly as he enjoyed his favourite dish of devilled kidneys. “…I feel that my digestion is…”

“You are excused…” Shigure simpered quietly. “Just do not take too long…"

“…Thank you, Shigure…." Tohru curtsey Shigure quietly. Somehow Tohru could breathe easy as she left the dining room, leaving the door ajar as Yuki showed Shigure his plans of expansion, which he observed her trying to hold back the tears in her eyes.

He somehow knew that Tohru is going to their family gardens to look for him.

“It seems that Miss Honda is off, should I bring her to the…”

Shigure held his hand slightly to Yuki “There is no need, a woman must figure her own path, well about Singapore, how it is like. Heard from friends that is balmy.”

Tohru quietly searched over that young man in the gardens, which the gardeners barely recognise that stranger. And soon she found Kyo, he was different from the meeting in the courts. He seems settled with a simple shirt and breeches. He seems to be sheltered with the shade of the leaves. A scene of tranquillity and at most she could hear him speak.

"For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground. And tell sad stories of the death of kings,. How some have been deposed, some slain in war.”

There is a slight tremble in his voice, as Kyo focused himself to be that illicit king, a mulberry flower slowly landed on his shoulder.

"Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed…."

"Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed, All murdered. For within the hollow crown…” And finally, he stood up to himself, watching the sun rays bathing in the lands “...That rounds the mortal temples of a king.” She was moved by those words, perhaps he has to wrestle with his demons, alone, and yet frightened. At that moment, Tohru nearly tripped her skirts and found herself falling down on the patch, causing a thud.

Kyo glanced at her slightly, and soon Tohru ran off from that hedge. And Kyo scratched his head slightly, only resigned himself to follow along with the speech again.

Quietly Tohru assembled herself a small palette of watercolours and papers when she noticed Kyo sitting down quietly amidst the nestled mulberry leaves, with his hands trembled from reading a poem from Shakespeare. He somehow possessed a quiet spirit which is much different from his more violent nature. She could not tell the trembling of his hands, as he flipped through every page. Amidst the soft light, she could see the pricks around his hand, swallowing lyrical wisdom of characters that came back and forth in mind. Shigure seems to walk by with ease, as he leans by the wall "Ahhh, as usual like Keats, in deep melancholy, he tried to be awake from the biting reality, and yet he is not..."

"Why do you said that..."

'I know faces like him, who came back from uncharted lands... And this war, though as a  way to gain lands, are executed rather poorly." Shigure closed his eyes slightly "They are once boys, now they become the hollow men of the world..." Tohru paused slightly, maybe that is why, at times, he could hear him scream at times, as he was forced to be awakened by the demons that encapsulated his mind. Somehow Shigure helped himself to take a piece of bread, and quietly chomped it "I somehow pitied him, I know that Yuki could have been in the same position as him, fighting against those power hungry Russians.

"Lack of clean water, cold winters which you have a blanket to wrap your hungry body, and the usual diseases, cholera, and if you are wounded. Your arm or leg could be chopped off, though in an untactful manner. "

Quietly Shigure looked over the framed pictures of the relatives who have passed on. “Yuki has shown promise on expanding our business, that itself, a big ticket to escape the clutches of war.” He took a deep breath, as he glanced at one standing proudly in military uniform  “And of course we have to give a scapegoat to the persons in charge, and you probably know who...” Tohru could easily fill in the blanks in her mind. She made a slight frown, as she watched him more growing agitated at dinners which Yuki shared his dreams with the older members of the family. Maybe that is why he has a sinking feeling in his heart. “Oh…” Shigure smiled quietly, watching the clock tick by. “I suppose you should be making your way to the drawing room. A certain little lady is waiting for you…”

Somehow Tohru's eyes widened slightly, as she quickly grabbed the papers and paints “Uhmmm..uhmmm…I am sorry if I took your time Master Shigure!, I should have to keep track! I am sorry! I am sorry!” And before long, Shigure gave a small smile. He thought to himself, there is no way that a kind person like Tohru could break through Kyo’s defences.

Shigure quietly slipped himself another piece of bread left on the plate, and slick some butter on top. "You know after, that walk by the garden, I notice that Kyo came back to eat, but always in silence..." His voice seems to be grave about this matter. "I think you must have an effect on him..."

"I have never seen him smile since he came back to the house. It seems that not all hope is lost."

Meanwhile, Tohru curtseyed to the small lady, clutching her skirts slightly “How are you doing Lady Kisa.” She, of course, rendered silent as she looked over the window, and seeing the oak trees swayed in the breeze. Quietly she set up the easel, alongside with the papers and paints. Toru quietly gripped her hand “Come…let’s paint this landscape which you can see from this window…”

Tohru took the lead and started to sketch out the trees and the sunlight bathing in the leaves. Subconsciously she started to sketch a small figure hidden amidst the trees. Kisa hesitantly took up the brushes and started to paint the landscape with her own paper. She somehow cracked a small smile, as she glazed over the leaves. Toru grinned quietly “Well that seems lovely…”

However, Tohru was left with that lingering thought in her mind. What seems to go on with his mind. She wished to be at his side. He seems to be a kind man who dived himself to the crevices of poetry to quell the demons in his mind. Suddenly she heard a quiet mummer from Kisa “Lady Tohru...” Tohru looked at her quietly “...you must be worried about Master Kyo...”

How did a child know?

Tohru looked over at Kisa’s piece, her brushstrokes convey a delicacy, as if spring has come to the dull rooms. She yearned to be closer to him. Maybe what Shigure said is true, there are demons which she could not resolve for him. He has started his match He could smell the gunpowder amidst the mulberry trees, the roasted meats which she ate at nights, haunted his mind, and even the merriment of Shigure discussing the recent developments of his new bunch of friends made him all sullen. Even at nights, he would do nothing but to sit by the porch, and watch the moon glaze by, maybe it was comforting from the cramped tents, only lit by gaslight.

Tohru clutched her skirts slightly, there is got to be a side which he is afraid to show. Kiss tried to cheer her up, by showing off the new piece. “Miss...” Tohru looked at her quietly “I think master Kyo will one day, will see you as you are.”

Tohru found her eyes welled up in tears and soon held her by the shoulders, and before long she heard him speak. It was different from the jealous tones, he seems to show his vulnerability in these trees, and maybe that is what strikes her to paint him hidden. A man lost in the forest, never able to return home.

Kisa broke out her miasma as she clutched her hand. “I am sure, I have been thinking of Master Hiro, I wonder..I wonder what would he think of me.."

Tohru smiles quietly as she wiped a tear from her eye. She, will one day reach her hand to him. She knew someday will be the sweetest day ever.

“I do not know, but we will figure it out…” Tohru thought of something else to keep Kisa busy. Maybe she could brush up some French.

“Now the works are dry..maybe some light French conversation…” That thought of reaching out to him will come by someday, as she took that dusty book out from the shelf. Kisa nodded quietly "Allons-nous commencer?”

“Oui"

[richincolor]

With 2018 coming to a close, it’s time to kick off our end of the year lists! Here are eight of Audrey’s favorite books that came out this year (in no particular order):

Undead Girl Gang by Lily Anderson Razorbill || Audrey’s Review

Mila Flores and her best friend Riley have always been inseparable. There’s not much excitement in their small town of Cross Creek, so Mila and Riley make their own fun, devoting most of their time to Riley’s favorite activity: amateur witchcraft.

So when Riley and two Fairmont Academy mean girls die under suspicious circumstances, Mila refuses to believe everyone’s explanation that her BFF was involved in a suicide pact. Instead, armed with a tube of lip gloss and an ancient grimoire, Mila does the unthinkable to uncover the truth: she brings the girls back to life.

Unfortunately, Riley, June, and Dayton have no recollection of their murders, but they do have unfinished business to attend to. Now, with only seven days until the spell wears off and the girls return to their graves, Mila must wrangle the distracted group of undead teens and work fast to discover their murderer…before the killer strikes again.

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland Balzer + Bray || Group Discussion

Jane McKeene was born two days before the dead began to walk the battlefields of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville—derailing the War Between the States and changing America forever. In this new nation, safety for all depends on the work of a few, and laws like the Native and Negro Reeducation Act require certain children attend combat schools to learn to put down the dead. But there are also opportunities—and Jane is studying to become an Attendant, trained in both weaponry and etiquette to protect the well-to-do. It’s a chance for a better life for Negro girls like Jane. After all, not even being the daughter of a wealthy white Southern woman could save her from society’s expectations.

But that’s not a life Jane wants. Almost finished with her education at Miss Preston’s School of Combat in Baltimore, Jane is set on returning to her Kentucky home and doesn’t pay much mind to the politics of the eastern cities, with their talk of returning America to the glory of its days before the dead rose. But when families around Baltimore County begin to go missing, Jane is caught in the middle of a conspiracy, one that finds her in a desperate fight for her life against some powerful enemies. And the restless dead, it would seem, are the least of her problems.

From Twinkle, with Love by Sandhya Menon Simon Pulse || Audrey’s Review

Aspiring filmmaker and wallflower Twinkle Mehra has stories she wants to tell and universes she wants to explore, if only the world would listen. So when fellow film geek Sahil Roy approaches her to direct a movie for the upcoming Summer Festival, Twinkle is all over it. The chance to publicly showcase her voice as a director? Dream come true. The fact that it gets her closer to her longtime crush, Neil Roy—a.k.a. Sahil’s twin brother? Dream come true x 2.

When mystery man “N” begins emailing her, Twinkle is sure it’s Neil, finally ready to begin their happily-ever-after. The only slightly inconvenient problem is that, in the course of movie-making, she’s fallen madly in love with the irresistibly adorkable Sahil.

Twinkle soon realizes that resistance is futile: The romance she’s got is not the one she’s scripted. But will it be enough?

Told through the letters Twinkle writes to her favorite female filmmakers, From Twinkle, with Love navigates big truths about friendship, family, and the unexpected places love can find you.

Isle of Blood and Stone by Makiia Lucier Houghton Mifflin Harcourt || K. Imani’s Review

Ulises asked, “How can I look at these maps, see this riddle, and do nothing? They are my brothers.”

Elias reached across the table and flicked aside two shells with a fingertip. The map curled into itself. “It’s bound to be a goose chase. You know that?”

“Or a treasure hunt,” Ulises countered, “and you’ve always been good at those.”

Nineteen-year-old Elias is a royal explorer, a skilled mapmaker, and the new king of del Mar’s oldest friend. Soon he will embark on the adventure of a lifetime, an expedition past the Strait of Cain and into uncharted waters. Nothing stands in his way…until a long-ago tragedy creeps back into the light, threatening all he holds dear.

The people of St. John del Mar have never recovered from the loss of their boy princes, kidnapped eighteen years ago, both presumed dead. But when two maps surface, each bearing the same hidden riddle, troubling questions arise. What really happened to the young heirs? And why do the maps appear to be drawn by Lord Antoni, Elias’s father, who vanished on that same fateful day? With the king’s beautiful cousin by his side—whether he wants her there or not—Elias will race to solve the riddle of the princes. He will have to use his wits and guard his back. Because some truths are better left buried…and an unknown enemy stalks his every turn.

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo HarperTeen || Audrey’s Review

A young girl in Harlem discovers slam poetry as a way to understand her mother’s religion and her own relationship to the world. Debut novel of renowned slam poet Elizabeth Acevedo.

Xiomara Batista feels unheard and unable to hide in her Harlem neighborhood. Ever since her body grew into curves, she has learned to let her fists and her fierceness do the talking.

But Xiomara has plenty she wants to say, and she pours all her frustration and passion onto the pages of a leather notebook, reciting the words to herself like prayers—especially after she catches feelings for a boy in her bio class named Aman, who her family can never know about. With Mami’s determination to force her daughter to obey the laws of the church, Xiomara understands that her thoughts are best kept to herself.

So when she is invited to join her school’s slam poetry club, she doesn’t know how she could ever attend without her mami finding out, much less speak her words out loud. But still, she can’t stop thinking about performing her poems.

Because in the face of a world that may not want to hear her, Xiomara refuses to be silent.

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann Swoon Reads || Audrey’s Review

Alice had her whole summer planned. Non-stop all-you-can-eat buffets while marathoning her favorite TV shows (best friends totally included) with the smallest dash of adulting–working at the library to pay her share of the rent. The only thing missing from her perfect plan? Her girlfriend (who ended things when Alice confessed she’s asexual). Alice is done with dating–no thank you, do not pass go, stick a fork in her, done.

But then Alice meets Takumi and she can’t stop thinking about him or the rom com-grade romance feels she did not ask for (uncertainty, butterflies, and swoons, oh my!).

When her blissful summer takes an unexpected turn, and Takumi becomes her knight with a shiny library employee badge (close enough), Alice has to decide if she’s willing to risk their friendship for a love that might not be reciprocated—or understood.

Blanca & Roja by Anna-Marie McLemore Feiwel & Friends || Group Discussion

The biggest lie of all is the story you think you already know.

The del Cisne girls have never just been sisters; they’re also rivals, Blanca as obedient and graceful as Roja is vicious and manipulative. They know that, because of a generations-old spell, their family is bound to a bevy of swans deep in the woods. They know that, one day, the swans will pull them into a dangerous game that will leave one of them a girl, and trap the other in the body of a swan.

But when two local boys become drawn into the game, the swans’ spell intertwines with the strange and unpredictable magic lacing the woods, and all four of their fates depend on facing truths that could either save or destroy them. Blanca & Roja is the captivating story of sisters, friendship, love, hatred, and the price we pay to protect our hearts.

Shadow of the Fox by Julie Kagawa Harlequin Teen || Audrey’s Review

One thousand years ago, the great Kami Dragon was summoned to grant a single terrible wish—and the land of Iwagoto was plunged into an age of darkness and chaos.

Now, for whoever holds the Scroll of a Thousand Prayers, a new wish will be granted. A new age is about to dawn.

Raised by monks in the isolated Silent Winds temple, Yumeko has trained all her life to hide her yokai nature. Half kitsune, half human, her skill with illusion is matched only by her penchant for mischief. Until the day her home is burned to the ground, her adoptive family is brutally slain and she is forced to flee for her life with the temple’s greatest treasure—one part of the ancient scroll.

There are many who would claim the dragon’s wish for their own. Kage Tatsumi, a mysterious samurai of the Shadow Clan, is one such hunter, under orders to retrieve the scroll…at any cost. Fate brings Kage and Yumeko together. With a promise to lead him to the scroll, an uneasy alliance is formed, offering Yumeko her best hope for survival. But he seeks what she has hidden away, and her deception could ultimately tear them both apart.

With an army of demons at her heels and the unlikeliest of allies at her side, Yumeko’s secrets are more than a matter of life or death. They are the key to the fate of the world itself.

[solign0501]

Shall We Begin

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: As a SHIELD agent your work alongside the Avengers means you and Bucky start to get to know each other but then one day you are ordered to go under cover away from him. When the mission goes wrong, the Avengers are called in for a rescue.

Warnings: Reference to torture

A/N: This is my first time doing this so please go easy on me. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what y'all think! I’ll be throwing in another fan favourite character soon to mix things up a bit - so stay tuned!

You were out for over a week. All the while you were plagued with dreams, nightmares really. You were running through the cold Russian landscape, trying desperately to escape something following you. Every time you turned around you saw nothing, but it was always there, like a shadow in your peripheral vision, whispering those words that resounded in your head and in an echo all around you. You would scream to block them out and try to fight off your pursuer, only to find yourself unable to move, as though you were being held. In those moments, another voice pervaded the dreamscape, a familiar voice, softer and warmer, begging you to come back. 

“Help me!” you screamed, and everything would go black. You would blink and you would be back in the chair and the shadow would be in front of you, glowing red eyes boring into you as the machine turned on and the pain began again. 

Then suddenly the dream changed. You were back in the chair, the demon in front of you, but this time something was different. There was somebody else there, you couldn’t quite make him out but you knew it was male, you knew from the way his voice sounded. It was the soft voice from before. The blurry figure stood over you as you were in the chair, stroking your hair gently and speaking to you soothing words of comfort, calling you “doll” and telling you that you could fight this. At first you denied it, you knew you couldn’t fight this and the demon laughed, they knew it too. 

But the voice continued, speaking, humming, singing softly, saying things you recognised from books you had read. One day, though, the words stuck with you and the voice seemed louder somehow. 

“I wonder by my troth, what thou and I/ Did till we loved?” the voice said, starting like a confidential whisper and growing in strength at the words rang around you. “”Were we not weaned till then?/ But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?”

You felt your strength returning as the words grew louder still. Suddenly you remembered, a small blue book, a compilation of English poetry that your mother had given you when you for your eighteenth birthday. Your favourite poem, The Good Morrow by John Donne. You had heard it read in a film and fell in love with the poem from there. The demon flickered in front of you and the pulses felt less painful. You saw your mother’s face, your father’s too. Other faces swam into focus; friends, exes, colleagues... Bucky. 

“Bucky,” you croaked as your eyes shot open. 

Bucky stopped mid-sentence, not daring to hope that he’d actually heard that. 

“Bucky,” you said again, a little louder this time. Nope, he definitely wasn’t imagining it. He stood slowly and you fixed your eyes on him. The little blue book fell from his hand and hit the floor of the hospital room with a bang as Bucky darted forward and almost fell on the bed next to you, weak with relief. He ran his hands over your face, seeming to need to feel your eyelashes moving against his skin or the movement of your facial muscles as you opened your mouth to talk. 

“Hush doll,” he said tenderly, seeming to remember himself and quickly removing his hands. “Don’t try to talk, you’ll hurt your voice.” You attempted to sit up and he gently pushed you back down. “Don’t try that either.” You groaned in pain and nodded in weary agreement. 

Bucky looked at you once again and his face cracked into a beautiful, warm smile that after your nightmares felt like sunrise. 

“Stay here,” he said. You frowned at him as if to ask where you’re meant to go and he chuckled as he stood, legs still feeling a little unsteady, and made for the door. 

Steve met him as he sped round the corner, nearly colliding headfirst with his friend. 

“Woah there Buck, where’s the fire?” Steve asked, steadying himself on the wall and looking at the empty corridor behind Bucky just in case. 

“Where’s Palmer?” Bucky asked, taking Steve by the shoulders and almost shaking him. 

“I don’t know, I think she’s in with FitzSimmons in the lab...” Steve said, freeing himself from Bucky’s grip that was starting to hurt him “Buck, what...”

“She’s awake!” Bucky said, nearly jumping up and down in his excitement. A huge grin spread across Steve’s face but Bucky was already gone, racing to find the doctor. 

You were trying again to sit up in the bed, every inch of you crying out in painful protest when Steve strolled in through the door, smiling broadly. 

“Welcome back kid,” he said, moving forward and with infinite gentleness that surprised you for a man of his size, helped you to sit up. You were able to greet Doctor Palmer then when she came in a few moments later, FitzSimmons in tow. 

The three of them examined you, looking at the machines and the charts and you answered their one thousand rapid fire questions with weary patience as best you could. You almost didn’t notice Bucky slip in quietly behind them and stand in the corner, looking steadily at you, his face a mixture of warm relief and concern. You stole a second to smile at him and he managed to tip you a wink before he was blocked from view by Christine shining a light into your eyes. 

@hillywooddestiel @imaginecrushes @fandomlover03 @rosep16

[drsilverfish]

SPN S14 Wishlist (first edition)

1) A big AU “The End”/ Camp Chitaqua vibe to the whole season, as Michael!Dean sets about subjugating the world and setting himself up as Heaven’s new tyrant. Cas starts the season by falling into despair and drinking absinthe and smoking weed. Bonus for a global toilet paper shortage. 

2) Jack runs away to Jodie, Donna, Claire and the gang and stays with them for a bit. It would be good for him to hang out with some peeps his own (apparent) age and Jodie and Donna would give him some great down-to-earth guidance, whilst Sam and Cas are out of their minds with worry about Dean.

3) All the AU Bobby and Mary bonding, over beers and military tactics, at the bunker. Let’s not forget Jodie and Bobby almost had a thing, so I’d like to see Jodie’s shock at meeting AU Bobby as well.

4) AU Charlie and Rowena are lovers, and the whole camp knows it. 

5) Cas and Claire having a cute, awkward and tender heart-to-heart, about Dean being lost to Michael and Claire having lost Kaia. 

6) Michael!Dean having a tendency to check out hot dudes (Dean bleeding through). Demon!Dean skirted pretty close to canon bisexual (thanks to his “Summer of Love” with Crowley). I’d like Michael!Dean to scary-flirt-whilst-demanding-obeisance from various dudes - starting, perhaps, with Ketch (hee hee).

7) Sam opening up emotionally to some of the people in his life, whilst Dean is trapped as the Michael vessel - his Mom, AU Bobby, Jodie and Donna, AU Charlie, Rowena... let’s learn more about Sam’s interior self. Let’s also watch him grow as a (very collaborative) leader, with his big brother temporarily out of the picture and Satan (Hallelujah) dead, dead, dead.

8) More Bille the New Death, all billowy coat and effortless power.

9) Jack gets enough of his grace back to open portals to AUs. They visit a couple of different AUs looking for help getting Dean free of Michael’s control - one involving scary AU Kaia (let’s see that story, even if we aren’t getting Wayward) and another world where a battle-weary John Winchester is alive. They bring John back with them, in the hopes meeting him will give Dean the shock he needs to expel Michael - cue a lot of angst as this particularly battle-scarred version of John says some deeply unpleasant shit to Michael!Dean, as part of his “shock therapy”, forcing Dean to confront the psychological scars of John’s parenting in a BIG WAY.   

10) Pining Castiel (in spades)

11) Michael bringing a bunch of angels across from the apocalypse AU to replenish Heaven’s depleted stock in SPN’s universe. Naomi teaming up with Michael. 

12) A breakaway faction of angels rejecting AU Michael’s authority. They contact Castiel and tell him they believe he has worked a miracle by setting Satan’s nephilim child Jack on the path to goodness. They want him to teach them how to truly love and serve humanity, rather than subjugate it ,as AU Michael intends. To begin with, Cas tells the angels not to follow him, and that he is unworthy. Gradually, however, he steps up to the challenge, cuts out the weed and absinthe, and becomes a gentle teacher of poetry to fish (angels). Plus he can now hope to bring an angel army to the Michael fight.

13) Some demons approach Jack and ask him, as Satan’s son, to be the new King of Hell. He refuses, naturally, but Hell offers to help fight Michael and his angel army, if Jack will say, “Yes”. He consults with Sam and they decide Jack should agree, in order to bring more fire-power to the fight against Michael (who is trying to subjugate and burn their world). Jack has to struggle not to be corrupted and to handle that responsibility for the greater good.

14) Jack finds Eileen in Hell (where she was dragged by the Hell-hound who murdered her). He finds a way to release her. She and Sam have a cute reunion and she joins Team Bunker. Slowly, the two become closer.

15) Sam and Cas and Mary and AU Bobby and Jack all eventually agree that if they can’t save Dean and get him to expel Michael, then, to save the world from destruction, they will have to kill both angel and vessel (cue general angst).  

 16) The plan of bringing AU John Winchester to Michael!Dean works and Dean is able to gain control and expel Michael fuelled by the righteous need to tell his AU Dad to go f**** himself. The first thing he does when he gets free is hug Cas long and hard. like there is no tomorrow, in front of AU John Winchester and the rest of the gang. Rowena and AU Charlie exchange “The Look” TM.

17) Dean speaks to Sam (once he’s himself again) about what it was like for Sam to be possessed by Lucifer and by Gadreel, now that Dean knows what it’s like to be chained to a comet himself. The brothers have a heart-to-heart about the craziness of angel-breeding programmes, their sometimes antagonistic relationship, their different and difficult relationships with John Winchester, and how they’ve managed to fight their “destiny” even though Sam said “Yes” to Lucifer and Dean said “Yes” to AU Michael.

I’m sure I’ll think of more as hiatus settles in! 

[kvlt-ov-romance-blog]

The Voice: Pt I

[So, I’m currently in the process of trying to draft ideas as to what could constitute “rap magick,” which is exactly what it sounds like. On the surface it may seem that hip hop is devoid of magical qualities, but this is quite the contrary; magic is all around us and hip hop is no exception, especially these days when even in the mainstream there is a rising influence of occultism. The following is the first part/introduction to this idea, and suggestions are welcomed].

There is chanting, there is prayer, there is throat singing, there are many more styles that could fill a book. It is tantamount to any practitioner of magick to understand the voice is an extremely important tool for spiritual and magical workings. It is the oldest instrument, it was the first legitimate means of communication nearly everybody developed, it is an evolutionary mechanism, it is a piece of your identity. Many creation stories across the spectrum of faith feature spirits and entities creating and destroying as they speak, this gives you an idea just how mighty the voice is. In fact, it’s so powerful that consequently, even silence is incredibly useful in magical practices; and even in music itself, silence can be used for many interesting ways (John Cage’s famous 4′33 -- note the 33 in the title for all you numerology and Gematria fanatics).

Sound itself is a vibration -- remember that one of the key principles of Hermeticism is that of vibration, that nothing remains static, everything is in motion (or if you’d prefer a more strictly secular view, dialectics comes to mind). Because sound is literally vibration, this means that even the sounds we hear affect our realities, our minds, perhaps even the All. Sound itself is fascinating because it “exists” in a state that is beyond our immediate comprehension, being non-physical and seemingly close yet far. In various belief systems, the voice is used as a means of raising vibrations and energies, often through mantras, through the utilization of the throat chakra, and so forth.

When it comes to the voice, I am personally not the strictest of believers that when conducting magical exercises that you must pronounce everything absolutely correctly and without fail. Typically, I find it to be effective in most cases to simply exude the utmost confidence, to speak as though staring someone intensely in the eyes. Even if you falter in your speech, what matters is if you can keep continuing strongly without pausing and fumbling about. Many words are arguably human creations as well, and psychologist, neurologists, linguists, etc. have often suggested thoroughly that the key of understanding and also achieving results through speech is largely symbolic and within your mind.

Besides, there is a lot of tricky wording within the realm of magick, some of it even being reversed words (note: pay attention to what Aleister Crowley had to say in Liber ABA about the importance of learning to speak backwards, for this is another means of affecting vibrations). This is not even particularly a fact that pertains solely to the realm of the spiritual, it is basic science and culture; people respond far more legitimately and attentively to those who speak strongly than those who have a poor flow, poor vocabulary, etc. So again, speak confidently and strongly and your results will likely be better than even if you are just saying the words accurately but only doing so in a rather passive manner. With spirit work, spirits respond more easily to the correct ways of speech, but all spirits tend to more specifically look for those who are speaking clearly, voicing themselves with confidence, and so forth.

One such elaboration on this matter specifically, I think back often to the story "A Hermit and a Monk” by Lama Zopa Rinpoche in which a monk visits a hermit who had spent years of his life chanting “om mani padme hum” the wrong way according to the monk. The monk leaves but then suddenly sees the hermit standing on water. , The hermit asks the shocked monk humbly for the correct pronunciation, and it is here where the monk realizes that it was the hermits faith, his conviction, his dedication, his confidence in his words that had done far more for him than correct pronunciation; we have far more power over our realities as individuals than we think, on levels ranging from the spiritual to the scientific and psychological.

Now, before going further, let me say that there are indeed certain words that no matter what your tone is, if you say them incorrectly, you may not achieve the results you’re looking for. True, your intent, your will, and of course the tone and nature of your voice matter the most and you likely will reach your goals in due time, but there are plenty of esoteric matters where pronunciation and annunciation makes everything just a bit easier. From Yogic mantras, to demonic enns, even names of entities in foreign languages can indeed be difficult to master saying, but it is will worth it to keep trying. As I said, you have a large role in determining your reality, but much like it helps support results to accurately see the correct visual aids (e.g. sigils) it also helps to get your wording right because it’s akin to honing in on the exact frequency or vibration you need. Additionally, as previously mentioned, some spirits may be quite picky about such matters, and also it’s a good habit to get into, especially if you’re relatively new to magick because it’s not only an opportunity to start fresh but also to boost your faith a bit, as if you start off saying what you need to correctly, even if you’re going into something with skepticism, the proper voice can likely lead to more legitimate results and thus improve your trust and confidence in your endeavors.

Essentially, there is stil much to be said on the nature of the voice -- and even on silence itself -- but this is just a brief introduction to the subject. More shall follow in due time. As I mentioned, I am trying to develop a more coherent means of utilizing rap/freestyle/poetry in achieving magical results so that is something I will discuss more prominently in upcoming sequels to this. Please let me know if you have any suggestions and thank you for reading!

[s-cornelius]

13x01-13x05 Scorecards!

13x01 Lost and Found: A

13x02 The Rising Son: A-

13x03 Patience: A

13x04 The Big Empty: A 

13x05 Advanced Thanatology: A+

I’m really loving the start of this season. I was looking back at previous season’s scorecards (and thinking about the ways s8 and s9 started), and there have been some rocky starts lately. I think that’s because in some respects the first three episodes have been treated has a three-parter (i.e. s10 with demon!Dean) or feel like they have set up everything that going to happen in the season, and therefore need to cram in a lot of plotlines and characters (see s9 and s11). But the first three episodes of this season don’t feel rushed or like they’re taking too much plot on at all. The first two episodes probably have the most going on (catching us up with Mary and Lucifer in the alternate universe after s12′s finale), but those episodes are only juggling two to three plotlines (depending on how you count Asmodeus), rather than 4+ as seen in other seasons. It’s tidier, and it lets character moments breathe.

Speaking of character moments, there were a lot of really nice ones. Sam and Jack’s bonding is really sweet, Jack trying to figure himself out is interesting, Dean’s grief and anger is heart wrenching, Castiel’s determination in getting out of the Empty is fun to watch, and his joy upon returning to earth made me tear up a little. That brings my cry count for this season to two, by the way.

And I think that’s why s12, despite all of its early potential, fell flat in the stretch toward the end. Where were the interesting character interactions? Where were the moments that would have made me invested in the stories of Mick and the BMoL, Lucifer and Crowley, and even Mary to a certain extent? If I’m not interested in the characters, then even world-ending stakes do not matter, because I don’t care if these characters live or die. 

Example: The second half of s12 had some serious stakes--keep Lucifer’s baby away from him because his son will be so powerful he will fuck up the world. Here are the problems with this: a) the Winchesters didn’t know that Lucifer was out of the cage for most of that time, so the stakes for them were different than for every other character, b) since it was so impersonal, it was basically “the Winchesters need to stop the bad thing” and since I’ve watched this show for many years, I know that they will stop the bad thing, so there is no narrative tension (and they were never gonna kill a pregnant woman/baby on network television), and c) the Winchesters were also so caught up in the BMoL drama that it divided their attention and so the stakes for nephilim plot never felt as serious as I think they were meant to feel. 

So, what’s the takeaway? Compelling drama with real stakes stems from character-driven conflict. And s13 is doing this, which is great. Sam and Dean have a legitimate conflict about what to do with Jack (who brings into the fray his own issues, etc.) and both approach the problem from a POV that makes sense based on past characterization and (in Dean’s case) recent events. And so there is the personal-drama-level stakes: will Dean kill this kid, who is just trying to figure out who he is? As well as the macro-potentially-world-ending stakes: this kid is so powerful that if his power is harnessed by someone evil, i.e Asmodeus or Lucifer, real bad shit could happen.

And all this plays out over multiple episodes, interwoven with stories about power and identity (13x03 Patience), family trauma (13x04 The Big Empty) and grieving (13x04 The Big Empty and 13x05 Advanced Thanatology). 

So, I only hope things continue apace, because this is really spectacular so far. 

Individual scorecards under the cut!!

13x01 Lost and Found

(Written by: Andrew Dabb, Directed by: Phil Sgriccia)

THE BAD:

“Brood mare” :/ :/ :/

THE GOOD:

Alexander Calver looks a whole lot like a young Misha, and acts like s4!Cas. (It’s almost like this is a good formula …)

Sheriff Barker is gr9!

“My father is Castiel” <3<3<3

Interesting shot with Jack on a bench and Dean in profile (call back to s4 with Cas?)

Dean’s prayer is pretty heartbreaking :(

The moment that broke me: when Dean had to stop to take a moment to collect himself

The music was really good in this episode

SCORE: A

STRAY THOUGHTS: A really solid start to the season. I like Jack a lot, and I hope he doesn’t turn evil!!

13x02 The Rising Son

(Written by: Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming, Directed by: Thomas J. Wright)

THE BAD:

The “Make Hell Great Again” joke was funny the first time; this time, not so much

So, Kentucky Fried Asmodeus??

Every conversation takes too many words

Too much time spent in the alternate universe (my general problem whenever there is an alternate universe in any show)

THE GOOD:

Has anyone written about how Jack opens the Bible to the Song of Solomon? The most romantic and also gayest part of the Bible?

Jack learning how to eat from Dean is hilarious

Even Jack’s little smiles are like Cas’

A lot could be made of Jack’s “I’m good.”

Sam and Jack bonding is good

The shot with the dead demon in the foreground and Michael and Lucifer fighting in the background is very very good

SCORE: A- STRAY THOUGHTS: The Hell/Lucifer storyline is still bogging everything down, just like last season. The Jack story was probably an A, but the Hell story is definitely a B, so I’m splitting the difference for the score.

13x03 Patience

(Written by: Robert Berens, Directed by: Robert Singer)

THE BAD:

Filming Jack in the shadows wasn’t a bad idea, but I can’t see him even on my fancy TV :/ It’s too dark!

The zooms are a bit much when Dean and Sam are arguing

THE GOOD:

Missouri! Jody! <3<3<3

I love Patience and her friend Bronson(?)

I’m glad Patience’s dad didn’t die (I hope he doesn’t die later) and I’m glad Jody is there to balance out Dean’s grieving nihilism

And Cas!

SCORE: A STRAY THOUGHTS: I know a lot of people were upset that Missouri died, but I think it was more of a sacrifice for/passing the torch to Patience. It wasn’t a death for shock value, horror porn, manpain, etc. It was a death for Patience’s story.

13x04 The Big Empty

(Written by: Meredith Glynn, Directed by: John Badham)

THE BAD:

Aren’t they in the middle of trying to find the bad guy? Seems like a bad time for Jack to get therapy.

Why shift into the Dean suit to burst into the room, and then immediately shift again?? That doesn’t make any sense...

THE GOOD:

Jack’s sporting the s9!Cas look

Empty!Cas is great

Even tho the timing of Jack’s talk with the shifter mom is weird, that moment was so good. So so good.

“I don’t believe in a damn thing” then cut to Cas waking up is damn good

SCORE: A

STRAY THOUGHTS: In this episode and the last (13x03), the bad guys were creepy white dude attacking black women.

13x05 Advanced Thanatology

(Written by: Steve Yockey, Directed by: John F. Showalter)

THE BAD:

I got nothing

THE GOOD:

This is a scary-ass episode

MMMmmm Billie <3

I really like the symbolism and poetry of the personification of death urging a suicidal grief-stricken Dean to live

Also Dean “I don’t believe in anything” in 13x04 to driving down a road with a neon glowing cross to Castiel, someone who he’s always had faith in

SCORE: A+

[ghostproposal]

“Kids of the Black Hole” by Marty Cain

Reviewed by Claire Cronin

    Kids of the Black Hole comes at readers in one rush. Marty Cain’s debut is a book-length poem that conjures traumatic adolescence as a fever dream. In its specific small-town ecstasies and horrors, the poem at first seems like a straight-forward confessional project, but Cain’s speaker behaves more like the author’s uncanny other than a solid, authentic self.

    When we meet the speaker, he is standing with a friend drinking beer by a river, yet the pair also seems to dwell outside of space and time. Past and present selves blur together in these pages, as Cain writes: “this is my black hole where my teenage self resides / & I sit in space locked out of my own house / I watch myself breathe from the outside” (1). Kids of the Black Hole exists in trauma’s realm where memories mix with fantasy, illusion, and the voices of the dead. Although the poem locates itself in the northeastern American town where the author grew up, Cain renames this site “Arcadia,” calling to mind a pastoral utopia that stands in direct contrast to the poem's ruined liquor stores, backwoods, and basements. “Another word for black hole is Arcadia,” Cain tells readers in a digital supplement. This black hole town, the depressed magnetic center into which all parts of the poem drag and spin, is not utopic— it’s demonic. Tenderness, when it’s offered to the speaker, is matched with cruelty. Rage is sorrow’s flip-side. The confession that the book offers us comes only through gothic distortions. In the first few pages, Cain explains: “how I wanted to speak, how I was only waiting for the slap of a hand / or the choke of a lover or a violent god to wake me” (4).

    Kids of the Black Hole is certainly a gothic book. Its spectral relation to real places, times, and events (and to the confessional tradition) made sense to me as a technique of the gothic. Cain’s taste for blood transfixes as it wounds us, allowing readers to experience the dizzying afterlife of a traumatic youth. There’s tongue-in-cheek fun mixed with real-world terror: bats, murder, the figure of death eating a burger, sexual violence, a psychotic psychotherapist, and evil jocks all swim inside one nightmare. The speaker’s self-abjection, unending woundedness, and bodily unravelling also perform a suffering that seems part of the book’s gothic aim to transgress bourgeois notions of identity, morality, and meaning. Like other gothic works, Kids of the Black Hole revels in the macabre staginess of its characters and settings. “I rot on the outside & incubate bodies / they call me the spider with the dead-leg twitch,” the speaker brags (3). Alive, undead, and born again, he tells us: “I was baptized in dirt by an iron god / I was born in a grave, I reside there still” (32). Even the speaker’s suicidal ideation is staged at an aesthetic distance through a mix of archaic and colloquial language:

O every blessèd I day I feel a gun to my skull  

O every day when I’m against the wall

I want to exhume my voice from the back of my throat

I want to raise it up from the base of the well

& let my corpus rot at the bottom

allow my spirit to bellow loud (39)

    There is another quality to Kids of the Black Hole that reads like channelled writing from an unseen source. The author seems cognizant of this. In one section of the book, Cain references Jack Spicer’s poetics of composition via dictated messages from aliens: “for this poem is my one abduction / for I know the transmission cometh from elsewhere / for I know a Martian in my soul” (15). Although there is some of Spicer’s drunken, self-emptying mysticism in Cain’s writing, Kids of the Black Hole overflows with images from a personal ego— not a martian realm. If Cain channels ghostly voices, they comes from old memories and lost friends. Yet there is also something in Cain’s anaphora of “I did” / “I saw” / “I chose” that reads like spiritual revelation. Like John the Baptist’s refrain “I John saw. I testify” in the poet H.D.’s “Tribute to the Angels,” Cain’s speaker also sees and testifies to worldly destruction as if he’s consumed by holy fire. This suggests that the speaker’s quest for self-annihilation comes from an impulse to be transformed and transcend the earthly plane.

    Cain’s vision of the negative sublime also fits with my understanding of his book as a gothic work. In it, God and angels are terrifying and the suffering body is one that is temporarily freed from limitations and ordinary language. Cain’s speaker prays in all-caps: “BLESS ALL THE UNHINGED YELLOW HORRORS WITH FEATHERED WINGS / SPROUTING FROM SHOULDERBLADES EVERY BLESSÉD SECOND” (32). A few pages later, he asks for a monstrous rebirth:

O Lord shake me awake from my lifelong nap

make me a newborn steaming in a foggy pasture

make me a split-open nightcrawler foaming over

with the popped-off head & a new one growing (39)

    At the level of style, Cain’s lines recall Whitman and Ginsberg, or even more closely, Frank Stanford. What Cain adds to this visionary tradition is a contemporary awareness of the self’s tentative construction, a reluctance to take on the baggage of confessional and narrative poetry, and a vocabulary drawn as much from high literary culture as from punk music and horror films. Kids of the Black Hole shocks and fascinates readers through its dark spectacle, but there’s more going on here than gothic entertainment. Cain has written deep, affecting poetry; this book holds real ghosts.

Claire Cronin is a poet, songwriter, and doctoral student in Athens, GA. She is the author of the chapbook Therese. Her work can be found in Bennington Review, The Volta, BOAAT, Sixth Finch, Cloud Rodeo, Prelude, Yalobusha Review, and other places.

Kids of the Black Hole, by Marty Cain

Trembling Pillow Press, 2017 

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Shadow- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,960

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual, implied smut

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this. If you want something requested, send it in!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

“You know, Sam is going to be pissed.” You said as you put your bra back on.

“Does it look like I care?” Dean chuckled and kissed you softly. You moaned appreciatively, pulling away when Dean’s phone rang. Dean groaned in protest but you knew you needed to answer it. So, you answered it for him and saw it was Sam calling.

“Hey, Sam.” You said, trying not to sound like you had the best sex of your life.

“Are you guys done?” He asked impatiently.

“We were busy.” That was all you had to say about the matter.

“Seriously? You guys are having sex when I told you to do something for me? What if something happened to me? “Sam asked, offended.

“You’re a big boy. You can handle yourself,” You teased. You pulled the phone away and put it on speakerphone, looking at Dean. “You’re on speakerphone.”

“I can’t believe you two.” Sam scoffed. Dean smirked and gave you a wink before opening the laptop back up.

“Well, maybe I can get some work done now. You’re the one that left us unsupervised.” Dean said, quickly typing and doing quick research.

“Please tell me you found something.” Sam asked. Dean was silent for a moment and then he showed you the computer screen. On it was Meg’s high school picture. She was a normal person.

“There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phonebook. I even pulled up her high school photo. Now, look, why don’t you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?” Dean teased, turning the laptop his way.

“What about the symbol? Any luck?” Sam sighed.

“Give me a moment.” Dean went back to rapidly typing and concentrating. He was trying to do hard research while rushed so you left him alone.

“I don’t know, Sam. I still don’t like the girl.”

“You don’t like anyone, Y/N.” Sam said with a scoff.

“Why do you and Dean think that I hate everyone? I just have strong gut feelings about certain people. I don’t know why but she seems off.”

“Sam, I got something.” Dean said. You walked back over to Dean and sat next to him. You realized then you were talking to Sam when you were half naked and Dean with only a blanket over his dick.

“It turns out it’s Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It’s a sigil for a Daeva.” Dean said.

“What’s a Daeva?” Sam asked, confused.

“It translates to “demon of darkness”. Zoroastrian demons, and they’re savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls.” Dean said.

“Wow, how did you figure that out?” Sam asked, surprised.

“What do you think? The internet.” Dean said. You laughed a bit and looked at him, kissing his cheek.

“You are too cute.” You said with a smile.

“Guys, can we focus?” Sam huffed out.

“Here’s the thing—these Daevas, they have to be summoned or conjured.” Dean said.

“So, someone is controlling it?” Sam asked. You had a feeling you knew who was.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. And, from what I gather, it’s pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos.”

“So what do they look like?” You asked Dean so Sam could hear. You didn’t see any pictures on the website he pulled up.

“Well, nobody knows, but nobody’s seen them for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we’ve got a major player in town. Now, why don’t you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?” Dean said, tired of talking about the case.

“Bite me.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“No, bite her. Don’t leave teeth marks, though,” Dean said but Sam hung up before Dean could finish what he was saying.

“You just love to pester him, don’t you?” You said, looking at Dean.

“It’s fun, you should try it sometime. I give you permission.” Dean chucked.

“Dean?” You asked, getting serious.

“What’s wrong?” Dean said, looking into your eyes.

“I’m almost always right about who I think is sketchy and who isn’t. Meg is sending off alarm bells in my head. I can’t shake the feeling that she is the one controlling the Daevas.”

“We gotta warn Sam. I know I tease you about hating everyone but I trust you and I trust when you think someone is shady.” Dean said, putting his clothes. You got dressed, ready to get Sam.

There was no need for you to get Sam because when you were almost ready, Sam barged into the motel room.

“Dude, I gotta talk to you.” They said at the same time.

“Sam, what did you find out?” You asked, deciding who should speak first.

“Meg is the one controlling the Daevas. Looks like she was using a black altar to control the thing. She was talking into a bowl and everything. You should have seen it. It was weird.” Sam explained.

“So, Sammy’s got a thing for the bad girl.” Dean teased but this was a serious matter.

“What’s the deal with the bowl?” You asked.

“She was talking into it. The way witches used to use crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone.” Sam said.

“With who? The Daevas?”

“No, you said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who’s giving her orders. Someone who’s coming to that warehouse.” Sam said.

“You’ll never guess what we found out.” You said, pointing to the files you got. Dean nodded and grabbed them, excited to show his brother.

“These are the complete records of the two victims. We missed something the first time.” You said, looking at Dean.

“The first victim, the old man, he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here. Look where he was born.” Dean said, pointing to the city.

“Lawrence, Kansas.” Sam read.

“Meredith, second victim. It turns out she was adopted and guess where she’s from.”

“Lawrence, Kansas.” You said for Sam who looked shocked.

“Holy shit, it’s where the demon killed Mom. That’s where everything started. So, you think Meg’s tied up with the demon?” Sam said, looking at his brother.

“It’s where my mom was killed too. I don’t know how but I think because my mom knew John, our families are tied together, somehow.”

“I think it’s a definite possibility.” Dean said.

“But I don’t understand. What’s the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?” Sam wondered. That was a good question.

“Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.” You said, thinking it was a god idea.

“No, we can’t. We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve gotta stake out that warehouse. We’ve gotta see who, or what, is showing up to meet her.” Sam said, taking the better option.

“I’ll tell you one thing. I don’t think we should do this alone.” Dean said, getting up and grabbing his cell phone. You knew who he was calling but got up to help Sam. You and Sam were getting weapons to have just in case for anything.

“I’m sorry about Meg.” You said, putting weapons into a bag.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, confused.

“Well, you seemed to really like her. I thought this might be your chance to be happy with someone after Jess. I guess I’m sorry.” You said, looking at him.

“She’ll come. I don’t know when but she will. Meg wasn’t it.” Sam said, taking one bag. You heaved the other on your shoulder and closed Dean’s trunk. You practically dumped everything from Dean’s trunk to the bags.

You two walked back to the motel room and saw Dean hanging up the phone.

“Voicemail?” You asked Dean who nodded. Dean turned around as you and Sam put the bags on the beds.

“Jesus, what’d you get?” Dean said, gesturing to the bags.

“We ransacked that trunk. Holy water, every weapon that we could think of and exorcism rituals from about a half dozen religions. I’m not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything.” You handed Sam and Dean their guns and you got to work filling them up, checking to see if everything was okay.

“God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?” Sam said after a few moments of silence.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, all right?” Dean was always the practical one while Sam was the dreamer. You were both but you knew when reality was reality.

“I know. I’m just saying, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school and be a person again.” Sam said with a smile on his face.

“You want to go back to school?” Dean said, the air in the room changed drastically. You stopped working and stared at Sam.

“Yeah, once we’re done hunting the thing.” Sam said, apparently not noticing the change.

“You want to leave?” You asked in a small voice.

“Why, is there something wrong with that?” Sam asked, turning around.

“No. No, it’s, uh, great. Good for you.” Dean said with a tight smile.

“I mean, what are you gonna do when it’s all over?”

“It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be something to hunt.” Dean said.

“How can you back to school knowing there are monsters out there, killing people? Once I entered this life, it changed me. I can’t go back to normalcy. Well, to me, this is normal. This is what we do. “You said to Sam.

“But there’s got to be something that you want for yourself,” Sam started to say.

“Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam.” Dean said, cutting him off. You bit your lip at Dean who walked over to the dresser. He was hiding his feelings because that he what he did.  

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Sam asked.

“Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?” Dean said, turning back around.

“Because Dad was in trouble. Because you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom.” Sam said like it was obvious.

“Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man,” Dean said, turning back to the dresser to hide his features. You walked over to him but he looked away from you. “You and me, Y/N, and Dad… I mean, I want us... I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again.”

“We missed you, Sam. It’s not the same without you.” You added to Dean’s thought.

“Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before.” Sam said to both of you. You looked at Dean to see a heartbroken face. You got tears, hating the way he looks.

“Could be.” Dean said softly. You let a tear fall and looked at Sam.

“I don’t want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.” Dean looked at his brother and he sighed.

“You have me.” You whispered to Dean. He gave you a tiny smile and walked out of the room, grabbing one of the bags. You sighed and grabbed the other one, following Dean out to the car.

Masterlist // Series Rewrite Masterlist // Buy me a Coffee?

Series Rewrite tags:

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Forever tags:

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Dean tags:

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Other tags:

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